For Sentimental Reasons
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: Response for the Demented Allure challenge to find a song one wouldn’t think of as a MR song. A little MR fluff.


Summary: Response for the Demented Allure challenge to find a song one wouldn't think of as a M/R song. A little M/R fluff.

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with X-Men or the song "For Sentimental Reasons".

If Magneto hadn't been so very off-guard, he would have found Rogue's behavior rather amusing, or perhaps irritating. She had been antsy all week, bustling with a kind of frenetic energy that had threatened to keep them both awake at night and a kind of anxious fretting that gave him a headache every time he looked at her. His surprise had been great when at last she had snarled at him, her right hand exposed and rather perilously close to his throat, that he never did anything nice for her and how could he have forgotten that it was their two month anniversary five days ago?

Well.

It had occurred to him to point out that she had done nothing to commemorate the apparently important anniversary, but the gleam in her eye and the lazy sway of her hand, so much like that of a cobra preparing to strike, convinced him that to do so would be unwise. He had also considered reminding her that, whatever their relationship, he was the busy leader of a group of freedom fighters and she was one of his soldiers—but he knew that he would be harming himself as well as her with those words, because he ever sought to make sure that they were equals in the bedroom, if not on the battlefield. He had thought about deriding her desire for a celebration of such an arbitrary date—had she not, after all, been a member of the Brotherhood and his close companion for some time before they had finally consummated their relationship?—but behind the anger in her eyes there was a look of such utter fragility that he could not bring himself to be so harsh.

So what else was an evil mastermind to do? Fortunately, neither Pyro nor Mystique were there to mock him as he groveled a little, apologizing profusely, until she relaxed a little and backed away. That look of warning was still shining from her eyes, though, and he knew that he needed to make things up to her, and soon, or she was going to do something drastic.

He ended up making reservations at the nicest restaurant within driving distance, and, fearing that that would not be enough, reluctantly decided to encourage her to partake of enough alcohol that upon their return to the fortress he could make such long and protracted love to her deadly body that she would remember nothing about her original anger when she woke the next morning.

His plan had been working like a charm until now. Rogue had appeared delighted when he told her to dress nicely for dinner, and she had emerged from their shared bedroom—many hours after entering—in an evening gown he had bought for her but never seen her wear. It was a sleeveless dress, and despite her long white opera gloves there were many pale inches of tantalizing flesh exposed. He felt his mouth water, and briefly considered suggesting that they forget dinner and skip ahead to the lovemaking—but one glance at her determined expression reminded him why he had planned this evening in the first place.

They had taken the boat to shore and ridden in a limousine the short distance to the restaurant, where he had heard the other patrons take a collective breath at the striking image of the white-haired older man and beautiful young woman. They had been led to their reserved table and enjoyed at least an hour of excellent food, delicious wine, and better company. He had watched with great interest as her cheeks became suffused by a rosy glow as she drank the wine, and thought with glee that things were going just as he had planned.

Then the music had started. It was just background music, really, provided by a fairly talented band, and it wouldn't have normally bothered him. But then some of the couples from the other tables had gotten up to dance. One glance at Rogue's face had told him that he was doomed to follow the same fate, and he rose and offered his hand with all the elegance of a well-bred gentleman. The smile that lit up her face at his gesture made it entirely worthwhile, and he led her onto the floor with a certain amount of pride. Every other man in the restaurant had to dance with their human women—but Rogue was not just a mutant, but an extraordinary one, as anyone could tell just by looking at her.

They danced carefully, his hand at the small of her back protected by her dress and his other hand grasping her gloved one. This close, he could smell her light perfume, and he closed his eyes momentarily as he breathed in deeply. He still didn't understand how she could do this to him, this slip of a girl, so much younger and less experienced than he—and yet in some ways older, due to her gift, and just as accustomed to the traumas of life as a mutant. He moved his hand from behind her for a moment to twirl a strand of her white hair around his finger, watching as her pupils dilated as she watched him.

He released the hair and placed his hand back in its original position, and she sighed and leaned against him as the song ended and another began. He recognized it only faintly as a rather disgustingly sappy love song, and pushed it from his mind immediately. But then Rogue started singing softly, and he stiffened.

"I love you, for sentimental reasons," she sang, her alto a pleasant sound. The words, however, were not so pleasant—especially as she was now looking at him, forcing him to meet her liquid brown eyes as she crooned the lines at him. These were not words that were meant to be sung to _him_, ever, and he felt the indignity of it like ice water down his spine. "I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart." He hoped that that was it, that the singing was over. It wasn't. It seemed she was determined to sing _the entire song_. And now people were starting to look at them, their expressions _soft_ and _warm_ at the thought of her singing a love song to him. Disgusting.

"I love you and you alone were meant for me  
Please give your loving heart to me  
And say we'll never part."

"Rogue—people are staring." She smiled lovingly and a bit cunningly at him, and he realized with a jolt that this was part of his punishment.

"I think of you every morning  
Dream of you every night  
Darling, I'm never lonely  
Whenever you are in sight."

"This is quite unbecoming of a mutant freedom fighter," he said severely. Her grip on his hand tightened in response and she snuggled herself more firmly against him.

"I love you for sentimental reasons  
I hope you do believe me  
I've given you my heart."

"Rogue…" His eyes closed as he savored her sweet warmth.

"I love you for sentimental reasons  
I hope you do believe me  
I've given you my heart."

By the end of the song, Magneto was surprised and dismayed to be finding it almost…pleasant. "Are you quite done?" he asked, but though his words were harsh his tone was strangely gentle, and she smiled a little—one of those mysterious little smiles women are so capable of that always speak of good things for men—and nodded, unoffended. They gathered their coats and scarves and returned as they had come, with an air of elegance and beauty and no hint of the steely soldiers that lay beneath.

They made it to the boat before they began kissing—and who started it, he couldn't say—and to their room before any articles of clothing were discarded, although afterwards Pyro would say that he had been scarred for life. Despite the little hiccup of the singing and dancing, Magneto's plan concluded just as he had intended, and he spent the long, blissful night refamiliarizing himself with the other lovely melodious sounds Rogue was capable of making; he might even have made one or two himself.

At last, thoroughly exhausted, Rogue fell asleep, a sheet wrapped around her otherwise nude body to shield him through the night. Magneto's eyes were closing as well as he wrapped himself protectively around her, trusting her sheet and his pajamas to keep him from harm. Surely it was his own fatigue that made him half-whisper, half-sing in her ear, "I hope you do believe me, I've given you my heart."

Neither would quite remember him as having said the words when they woke up in the morning. However, the song became a favorite of theirs and she sang it often enough for them both on the many anniversaries to come.


End file.
